Wraith of Feeling
by TMBlue
Summary: They have found and destroyed of all the Horcruxes but one and Voldemort himself. But Voldemort has disappeared and no one, not even Harry, knows where he is. They remain at Hogwarts, waiting for a sign, but maybe they aren't looking in the right place...
1. Anamnesis

He stands over the fireplace, watching the flames as they seem to form a solid wall of orange light through his glassy eyes. It would seem to anyone else that nothing was out of the ordinary. The scattered quills forgotten from the night of studying for exams littering the table tops of the Gryffindor common room, the forgotten cloak over the back of a chair near the window, and the clear, starry sky that could be seen from his place on the carpet by the fire if only he turned his head a fraction to the left, but he wouldn't do that… The place was quiet, everyone tucked soundly into their beds in the tower. But for Ronald Weasley, everything had changed on this night. Nothing would ever be the same…

* * *

It was the kind of day that makes you wish you had overslept your alarm so that even though you'd get a detention, it was an honest mistake, so what harm was there in going back to sleep again? It was already done. The rain came down in sheets around them and Hermione walked nearly four meters ahead of Harry and Ron. Her hair was so wet that it lied almost flat against her head, an unusual sight. One might not even recognized her from behind, but Ron had grown so accustomed to everything about her that he would have had no trouble… the way she walked, leaning forward slightly to cover the books in her arms from the rain, the way her feet and legs moved together, even down to the shape of her body and the way it fit underneath her cloak.

Ron pushed his hand through the soaked hair on his forehead, moving it back and out of his eyes as they continued up the hill towards their class. She always walked in front of them in the rain. Why did she always walk in front? Ron knew it was nothing more than the fact that she wanted to get to class on time and with reasonably dry underwear, so he never thought much of it. But in a storm like this one, he could watch her as she went, thinking about things that he knew he shouldn't think about, but the storm seemed to drown his thoughts enough that he felt they would be carried away with the wind before anyone could find out or be bothered to care what he was thinking about.

He would close his eyes for just as second, just long enough to create a picture, but just short enough to keep himself from doing something clumsy like running into her if she made an abrupt stop or if they somehow reached the classroom without him knowing, something that happened often in the rain when his mind wasn't focused on any of the things that Hermione would have said it should have been. He would imagine, just for a second, how it would be when he would finally decide that these feelings he had were meant for more than just walks in the rain. It wasn't even a real picture, just a feeling becoming an image in his mind that he couldn't explain, but it felt like everything made sense just for a second.

When he opened his eyes, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, she could be feeling the same way, she could have a secret that he would be glad that she had kept… until now. And he'd wish for something, some sign that she knew what he felt, some brief second where he could know that she felt the same way, even if it was just her turning over her shoulder to say "yes, I do" to a little first year girl who was looking for one of the greenhouses, asking Hermione if she knew where they were. But it was good enough, and he allowed the smile on his face to linger for a moment too long while he imagined it was him she had turned to, and all this time, all these walks in the rain, had been worth it.

Before he knew it, he was taking his seat in the back of the classroom, Hermione sitting in front of him as it always was. She kept her back to him as she unpacked her bag and covered her desk in two large books, quills, parchment, and an ink well.

In all honesty, that's where his memories now became fuzzy, though it had been mere months ago. His eyes must have come to rest on the back of Hermione's neck or on her elbow as she scribbled quickly onto the parchment in front of her, trying to copy down the lesson verbatim. He remembered the feeling of wanting her to turn around, to catch him and scold him for not taking his notes and not paying attention. But these thoughts were not strictly attached to this day and this classroom. He felt this way more often than not during school. He watched her, or he slept, or his eyes tried to focus unsuccessfully on the professor and on the words on the blackboard, but today, his head had felt the weight of sleep dragging him down to the desk top in front of him, and moments later, like the transition between the two states was nothing but a blink and a forgotten memory, his eyelashes rested against his forearm and his mind began the tedious work of planning out the order of things to come in his dreams.

"In dreams, our minds do not lie," he remembered Hermione telling him once. "Our truest feelings can come out in one night's sleep…"

* * *

It was sunset, and he was standing at the Burrow, looking out the front window as Hermione and Ginny came up from the pond towards the door. It seemed that they had been swimming, but he knew that it didn't make sense… it was Christmas after all.

The snow was gently coming down from the sky as they made their way into the house. He waited for Hermione to notice him by the window when she came through the door and into his view, and she did notice him. For Ron, in that moment, it was a kind of shock where you realize what you wanted and what has happened have become one and the same, and you never would have expected it, so it's as if you hadn't asked for it at all, and it had just happened, out of nowhere, to keep you on your toes.

She smiled at him, and he let out a breath he had been holding when he thought she'd walk on past. If she noticed him, he had assumed she would ask questions. "Were you watching me outside?" and he didn't feel like answering today. But now, no words seemed to be necessary as she studied his face, moving closer and closer until the toe of her boots and his bare toes were lined up and a mere centimeter from touching.

His eyes locked with hers and for a second, his heart stopped. She was going to kiss him. He didn't know how he knew it, but it just was. He was so sure of it. But then bright flames kicked up in her pupils, and his eyes squinted, staring right into the face of something horrible… he whipped around, pulling his wand from his jeans, thinking it was something behind him coming up to get them, something that he had seen a reflection of in Hermione's eyes.

But there was nothing there and as he started to turn back around towards Hermione, she was gone. The burrow was replaced with a damp cave and there stood a monster, something he'd never seen before and wished he had never gotten the chance to now. He backed against the cold stone of the cave, his wand raised, and before he knew it, rage was building inside of him. This thing, whatever it was, had taken Hermione away from him. He was shouting, saying things he didn't remember telling himself to say, and suddenly, he was jolted backwards into the stone by an unseen force…

* * *

His eyes shot open and the bright light of the classroom dilated his pupils instantly. His back was pressed hard against the back of his wooden desk chair. He slowly realized that everyone in the classroom was watching him. His eyes flicked over Hermione's. She was concerned, but there was something else. She looked scared…

Ron rubbed at his forehead and swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Sorry…" he mumbled hoarsely to the class. They slowly turned back around to face the front, and the professor dismissed the class, but Ron hardly heard him and remained in his seat after everyone else had picked up their bags and started for the door.

Hermione's eyes stayed locked on Ron's face and he noticed her after a moment. She stayed in her seat and didn't move an inch.

"What are you staring at?" snapped Ron. He hadn't meant to be mean, but he didn't like the way she was looking at him, like he had done something dangerous or cruel.

"If you must know," started Hermione, her arms crossing over her chest. "You _were_ shouting my name just a moment ago. You startled half the class into dropping their quills. Made quiet a racket…" As surprised as he was to hear that he had been shouting Hermione's name in his sleep, he couldn't resist the urge to make a joke.

"I doubt half the class was holding quills, Hermione. You must have heard all fifteen of yours dropping off your desk at once."

Hermione sighed and picked up her books, standing from her desk and moving towards the door before Ron had the chance to say anything. Harry had been watching quietly the whole time, busying himself with making it seem an awful lot like he was just having trouble fitting a book into his bag. But now, with Hermione gone, he seemed to decide he needed to speak to Ron about what had happened, and he didn't seem like he thought it was a joke.

"Ron…"

Ron looked over at Harry and noticed for the first time that the classroom was completely empty.

"Are you okay? I mean, you seemed pretty upset… I know it was a dream and all but…"

"Harry, it's nothing. Just a really weird nightmare. That's what I get for drinking too much hot chocolate last night I guess."

Harry sniggered. Hermione had scolded Ron after his third, fourth, and fifth mug of hot chocolate, but he had refused to stop drinking it every time. In fact, her mentioning it seemed to be what made him continue to drink it, cup after cup.

"Guess that could have been it," and that was all that Harry said. They left the classroom in silence and made their way to the Great Hall for lunch.

It would be days before the event was mentioned again, and several more before Ron would realize that they weren't just ordinary nightmares. But now, months later, thinking back, he is thankful for the time that he had, thankful that he had a chance to be her friend, because before too much longer, that part of him would be gone forever.


	2. Black Weight

Two Days Later

Ron's eyes snapped open to the unending buzz of his alarm. He felt the cold sweat that was coating his forehead but he couldn't remember what had happened. He remembered climbing in bed last night and falling asleep nearly instantly, but the memory of his dream was fuzzy and slipping away quickly. He ripped back the scarlet curtains that separated him from the nightstand where his alarm seemed to get even louder by the second, making sure that he was indeed awake and wasn't planning any funny business like falling back to sleep and missing History of Magic.

Harry stood with his back towards Ron, running his comb through his hair. Ron's fist slammed down on his alarm harder than he had intended and Harry jumped and turned around in one quick motion.

"Ron!" Harry's eyes scrunched up in irritation and surprise at the unnecessary force with which Ron ended the alarm's morning buzzing. "I think you killed it!"

Ron pushed his hair out of his eyes, ignoring Harry, and climbed out of bed. He headed to the shower without a word.

The day passed relatively uneventfully, nothing out of the ordinary taking place in any of the three classes that Ron, Harry, and Hermione shared. But when Harry and Ron set off for Potions and Hermione left them for Arithmancy, Ron started to feel uneasy, like he should go after her. He paused in the hallway and Harry finally turned around, realizing that Ron wasn't following him to the dungeon for Potions.

"Ron… come on. We'll be late." But Ron didn't budge and Harry had to nearly drag him down to class. "What the hell has gotten in to you? You have been acting funny since… well, since that nightmare you had a few days…"

"Harry," Ron turned quickly and met Harry's eyes, his own eyes widening with realization. "It was the dream!"

"What?" Harry stared at Ron in confusion and irritation and Ron's lack of explanation, but Harry was also growing increasingly concerned for his friend. Ron lowered his voice and began speaking.

"Last night… I had this dream. I couldn't remember it until just now, in the hallway, and then you mentioned History of Magic and it came back to me…"

A couple students rounded the corner and headed into the Potions classroom. Ron and Harry sidestepped them and moved against the stone dungeon wall.

"It was like the last one… only…"

"Only what?" Harry said loudly, then lowered his voice as another passing student turned to see what the commotion was about. "You never told me what happened in your dream before…"

"Nevermind that…" Ron looked down at his shoes and a blush started to creep up his cheeks.

Harry decided not to press the issue any further and could have probably guessed what Ron had been dreaming about if he had allowed himself to consider the possibilities... Ron paused very briefly, then continued speaking in a low voice.

"We were in a long hallway – me, you and Hermione. I was in front. Hermione separated from us. I kept walking but I knew she had walked away… then you turned around like you knew something, like you were trying to stop her…"

"This is why you stopped in the hallway when we separated?"

Ron nodded slowly.

"I can't remember what happened, Harry, just the feeling afterwards… I couldn't breathe. It was like…" But Ron didn't get the chance to finish. Slughorn's eyes bore a hole through the back of Ron's head and Harry nodded in their professor's direction. Ron turned around and slid past Slughorn and into the classroom with a muttered apology for being late.

That evening in the Great Hall, Ron's head was feeling heavy and his eyes were blinking furiously, trying to keep awake long enough to finish his roast beef and mashed potatoes. Hermione seemed fairly concerned and kept glancing over at him from across the table when he would jolt his head back up to wake himself up. He finally looked up to meet her eyes, but instead of quickly looking away like she usually did when she was caught looking at him, she held his gaze.

"What?" he asked her softly.

"You are about to fall into your plate, Ron. Are you okay?"

"Oh. Fine. Just tired I guess…" Ron looked back down at his dinner and slowly jabbed his fork into his food.

Harry glanced over at Ron but didn't seem to think anything was out of the ordinary. Ron always had trouble getting up in the morning, slept through classes, and fell asleep before anyone else in the dormitory at night.

"You know, I feel like I haven't slept in days actually." Ron yawned and Hermione returned slowly to finishing her biscuit.

"Maybe you're catching a cold. You should go right to bed tonight."

"But, Her_mi_one…" whined Ron, curling his mouth into a grin. "We have an _essay_ due tomorrow. How will I finish in time?"

Hermione looked up at Ron, and she seemed to be torn between two responses: insisting that Ron stay up to complete his assignment or insisting that he go straight to bed…

"I guess I'll have to stay up and work all night long… I'll be very sick tomorrow, but I'll pull through… eventually… after I finish coughing up my lungs and manage to finally start keeping food down again… it could take weeks, months, who knows… but you know it's all worth it when it comes down to…"

Hermione rolled her eyes and interrupted him. "I'll do your bloody essay for you, you prat. Go to bed." She picked up her bag and left the table in a huff.

Ron stared, shocked, at Hermione as she left the Great Hall.

"She swore!" he announced, and Harry burst out laughing.

"But you somehow got out of that horrid Potions essay," and Harry didn't sound the least bit apologetic about Ron's 'illness'. "You really are a prat."

Ron had no trouble falling asleep at 8:30pm when he stumbled into bed a good 2 hours before anyone usually did. He also wasted no time dreaming that night and the moment his eyes closed he entered a new nightmare…

* * *

Ron walked down the dungeon corridor slowly. He knew something was up ahead. In the dream, Ron knew exactly what was at the end of the hallway, but the Ron who was dreaming it had no idea and was nervous, on edge, waiting to see what would happen.

Suddenly, Hermione jumped out from an empty room and her arms went around his waist. Ron's stomach jumped up into his throat when she burst from the doorway, but that feeling subsided instantly and was replaced with warmth and happiness at the closeness he now felt to Hermione. She was completely pressed against him, her head under his chin, and he thought that he had never been so excited in his life. She must have felt his heart beating rapidly through the thin cotton of his Chudley Cannon's shirt.

But as she backed away from him slowly, her arms still around him, Ron heard footsteps behind him and whipped around. A shadow now covered the majority of the corridor and Ron could hardly see a thing. He felt Hermione backing away from him, but he didn't turn back towards her. If she was behind him, she was safe. But just as quickly as that thought entered his head, he realized that it was completely untrue. He heard Hermione's muffled screams from behind him and as he turned into the blackness, he felt despair and hatred and helplessness all at once. He could do nothing but run blindly into the darkness, knowing that if he was going to die, he would do it trying to save her…

* * *

Ron jolted awake, screaming and panicking. This time was the worst, and he literally fell out of his bed, tumbling into the half-closed curtains, tangling in them as he fell onto the rug next to his bed. His eyes adjusted to his surroundings only for a moment before he frantically started untangling himself and running for the closed door to his dormitory which was still empty as it was only 9:30.

He flew down the stairs, not even realizing how inappropriately dressed he was. He wore only his boxers and an undershirt. As he rounded the corner and into the common room, his eyes searched for one person. He didn't even notice the stares of his classmates at his appearance. He darted towards the couch when he spotted her bushy hair and, leaping over the back of the couch, he fell next to her, her eyes turning, startled, to meet his.

"Ron!" she cried, her eyes as wide as they could possibly go.

"Hermione!" and he reached out for her. He stopped himself as he was about to pull her into a hug and settled for resting his hands on her arms instead, slowly realizing what he had just done.

He returned completely from his dream now as it hit him that he was sitting on the common room sofa holding on to Hermione wearing only his boxers and an undershirt that was so thin that he might as well not be wearing one at all. Everyone in the room was now completely silent and most certainly staring right at him. He was too afraid to look.

His face and ears instantly turned from pale white to a color that very closely matched his bed curtains. Harry sat in the arm chair behind Ron but he could feel Harry staring at him. He had no choice at this point but to retreat as quickly and with as much dignity as possible, which wasn't going to be much.

"Um…" Ron started. Hermione's blush was battling Ron's now in color. Ron dropped his hands from Hermione's arms and climbed off the couch. "I'm sorry about that. Just… uh… I just had to… uh… just needed…" He looked around desperately for something. "Just needed a quill!" He announced, grabbing one of Hermione's from the table in front of the couch. "I just… an answer… just came to me!" And he turned and ran back up the stairs, trying his best not to look at a single person in the common room as he passed by.

Hermione hid her face behind an extra large book, but managed to peak over the top at Harry after everyone turned back to their work slowly, talking in whispers and giggles about Ron's sudden burst into the room.

"Harry!" she whispered sharply. Harry looked up at her and she darted her eyes towards the dormitory stairs. Harry got the point and stood from his chair with a fake yawn. He turned and headed up the stairs to check on Ron and ask him what had really happened, knowing that Hermione would be waiting in the common room impatiently to hear every word.


End file.
